


Silver and Gold, Silver and Gold

by brightem28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Christmas, Christmas Music, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Season/Series 08, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightem28/pseuds/brightem28
Summary: A case on Christmas Eve sends the brothers to the festive town of Evergreen Bend, Kansas, to investigate the strange occurrences surrounding a local holiday festival.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Silver and Gold, Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> This fic features a bunch of Christmas songs overlaying some of the scenes. If you'd like to listen along, the playlist can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6KkE5rYkLWj0ZZjxBElJrK?si=nQZZm3lKR0qne0QsuHGPAw) or you can click on the links as they're mentioned throughout the story. 
> 
> Set after 08x11 "LARP and the Real Girl" with the brothers already settled into the bunker.
> 
> This is just a bit of fun to get in the holiday spirit - enjoy!! <3

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and three hours into their drive when Dean decided he was ready to kick Sam out of the car.

“Seriously, dude, when was the last time you even updated any of these? I mean, _Twisted Sister?_ You’ll listen to that but not ‘Silent Night?’”

In fact, Dean was ready to turn around and drop Sam right back off at the bunker, the entire case be damned. There were only so many bathroom breaks a guy could take, and when Dean had finally refused to pull over after the fifth one, Sam had decided to change tactics by flicking through Baby's cassette tapes and voice his loud opinion on all of them. It was a petty move for sure, but in this passive-aggressive game they were playing Dean was more of the long-haul type of guy. Sam could poke and prod all he liked, but Dean refused to bite. 

The case had been Charlie’s idea anyway, which was why the disappointing scowls Sam kept throwing his way since early that morning felt, frankly, unfair. It was her computer program that had alerted them about the hunt. Charlie had reassured them she would look after Kevin in their absence, having grown close with the kid over her stay with them since the whole Moondor incident.

If the ache in Dean’s bones meant anything, it was that Charlie’s computer program might be a little _too_ good at finding them hunts. He and Sam had jumped from case to case four times in the past week alone, so Dean really couldn’t fault his brother for wanting a break from upholstery that smelt like cigarettes and hand soap that came prepackaged in crinkly squares. 

The case had popped up early that morning. Just three hours from them, in a city called Evergreen Bend, seven fires had been reported at the town's annual Christmas Festival. After doing more digging, they had also found that during the festival’s construction an engineer had died in a freak accident after landing back first on some antler decorations. It was just enough weird to grab their attention, and Dean figured they could drive in and gank whatever this thing was before it managed to kill again.

“Knock it off, will you? I’m already letting you choose the music, that makes me some kind of saint.”

There was the sound of plastic clanking together, loud and obnoxious. Dean did a double-take when he saw Sam smirk at a green cassette in his hand.

“Oh no, no, no, put that back.”

“You _said_ I could choose the music.”

“Music, Sam, not cheesy show tunes.”

Sam leaned over anyway, popping the tape into the player with a shit-eating grin. The beginning chords of an acoustic guitar cranked from the Impala’s speakers.

**[“Step Into Christmas” by Elton John](https://open.spotify.com/track/6sBWmE23q6xQHlnEZ8jYPT?si=Qs17_cYaSSCxggU5jAuzug) **

Dean groaned loudly, “Dude, really? Christmas music?” 

“It’s Christmas Eve, _Dean,_ stop being such a grinch.”

Dean scowled as he turned them onto the main road, passing a sign that read, “Welcome to Evergreen Bend”.

“I’m sorry, remind me again when we suddenly became the Griswalds? Because the last time I checked, Christmas wasn’t really our thing.”

There was a beat of silence as Sam forced a casual shrug.

“Amelia and I celebrated it together last year,” he offered. “We did the whole thing - lights, gifts, a tree. It was...nice.” He smiled softly, watching the row of shops fly by as they got closer to town square. “I don’t know, it just made me realize how much I missed those things. I think we should try and do more of them.”

Dean blinked, slowing for a couple as they crossed the street with shopping bags dangling from their arms. “I dunno man,” he said uncomfortably, “it just doesn’t feel like us.”

When he shifted the car back into gear, it was to pass more storefronts decorated extravagantly for the holidays. The further they got into town, the denser the decorations became till finally every door and window was lined with tinsel and string lights. Above the main road, a banner draped overhead with the words, “Season's Greetings” spelled out in elaborate cursive. 

“Have you talked to Cas at all?” Sam asked suddenly. The question caught Dean off-guard and he carefully cleared his throat.

“No.”

Sam frowned, narrowing his eyes at the newspaper headlines in his hands. “Damn, we really could have used his help on this one. What about Christmas, have you asked him what his plans are?”

“No, Sammy.”

“It’s just, I was thinking-”

“The dude’s not picking up his phone, okay?” Dean snapped, “So drop it.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out some of the aches. “He’s obviously got his own plans that don’t involve us, and I say we let him.”

Dean had tried to call Cas. Twice in fact. It had taken him a damn hour to build up the nerve the first time, only for him to be met with a ring of dial tone and an automated voice asking him to leave a message. Dean refused to acknowledge how it left him feeling like a rejected, moping girl from those Hallmark movies Charlie kept playing just because the guy he had not-so-platonic feelings for couldn’t give him a damn call on Christmas.

So yeah, maybe he wasn’t exactly feeling the holiday spirit this year.

“Oh look, a hot chocolate booth,” Sam said brightly. Dean rolled his eyes, swerving around a fallen wreath in the middle of the road. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get me directions to the closest motel, Sparky.”

. . .

For a holiday that seemed set to piss Dean off, it didn’t seem fair that it all had to be so _charming._

The motel Sam directed them towards had seemed not too different from the countless others they'd stayed at before. Sure, there had been the rainbow lights strung up all along the awning, but Dean knew sometimes the owners liked to do that sort of thing to make it feel more festive in the colder months.

The real kicker had been when he had walked into the front office and was greeted by a concierge in reindeer antlers. The guy had seemed far too chipper to not only book him a double, but also to load him with three chocolate-peppermint cookies that were apparently complimentary for guests. 

Dean had crammed the last one in his mouth as he turned the lock on their door and opened it with a quick shove. When his eyes fell on the corner of the room, he immediately choked.

“Is that a _Christmas tree?”_ he wheezed out. Sam brushed past him, laughing as he threw his bag onto the bed closest to the heater, the jerk. Dean frowned, glaring at the tree as he threw his own bag on the other bed and kicked the door shut behind them. 

“Isn’t that like, presumptuous or something?” he asked, flailing his hand at the thing, “Are they allowed to do that?” 

He walked closer to it, poking at one of the ornaments. Plastic. The whole thing was plastic, actually, the pine needles just as fake as the tinsel wrapped around it.

“I don’t know, it seems like Christmas is this town’s thing. Kinda what they’re known for, in fact,” Sam said, holding up a brochure from the motel’s end table. The words, “Christmas Festival” were written on it. Dean reached out and snatched it, flipping the brochure open to see pictures of smiling families on the inside drinking cups of hot chocolate and holding hands on an ice rink.

“So this is the place, huh? Figure we should go check it out?”

Sam pointed at the address on the bottom, “Open seven days a week, it says.”

Dean shrugged, grabbing his keys and already heading for the door, “Good enough for me, let’s go.”

. . .

**[“I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” by Wizzard](https://open.spotify.com/track/1mH6tZC6iXIHPI6EixCwxw?si=WPivl8lZSWyXT-A3IyFTzw) **

The festival grounds were about a ten-minute drive from the motel. The parking lot was already packed when they pulled in and Dean had to be careful to avoid hitting any small children as he eased the Impala between a minivan and SUV. 

They waited in line to get the green wristbands that approved their entry, shuffling behind crowded families and couples holding hands as Christmas music blared over the megaphone speakers overhead. 

“Oh this is ridiculous,” Dean muttered, pulling at the wristband the teenage worker had put on too tight. The thing was cutting off his circulation. “We just spent twenty dollars to listen to shitty musical jingles and to look at Mr. Pinnochio over here,” he said, giving one of the giant plastic nutcrackers a flick on its red nose.

“Wrong fairytale,” Sam frowned. “Plus, you know, it’s for kids. It’s… sweet,” he said hopefully, gazing around them. 

For a small town, it was nothing particularly fancy, wire netting the only thing separating the grounds from the parking lot. Near the entrance, food booths surrounded by wooden picnic benches sold hot chocolate and pastries. 

Further ahead there was a path lined with Christmas trees that stretched deeper into the festival grounds. Arrows pointed towards some of the other attractions, with names like, “Reindeer Stables” and “Ice Skating” painted in red letters. Plastic penguins and snowmen waved at passing visitors, some sporting scuff marks where kids had tried to climb them like a jungle gym. 

Had Dean visited this place as a kid, he could admit he’d probably been just as awed by the commercialized hype. But here he was, past thirty, and all the sounds and smells just gave him a headache.

There was a screech as Dean felt something suddenly slam into the back of his knees, sending him flailing forward. Sam snapped out a hand just in time as a little girl in pigtails swerved around them, shouting “Sorry!” as she sprinted away.

“See wh-'' Dean was cut off as he was slammed into again. He scrambled for Sam’s arm, not wanting to land face-first in the dirt. Two more little kids ran past them, one of them sporting a chocolate mustache across his face and the other holding a candy cane the size of her arm.

“Sorry!”

“Get out of the way, big man!”

Dean did a double-take, “Did he just - did he call me, _big man?”_

Sam just gave him a look, lifting his eyebrows. Dean scoffed, pushing away and doing a quick patdown of his clothes to make sure the twerps hadn’t pickpocketed him.

“Alright, let’s get out of this fever dream, ASAP.”

It seemed natural to follow the signs, walking down the aisle of Christmas trees that were decorated in gold and silver. When they reached a crossroads, they took a left, heading towards the center of the festival grounds. 

It opened to reveal a small courtyard with people milling around and sipping hot chocolate. Up ahead, Dean could also see the reindeer stables, little kids leaning over the wooden fences to pet the giant things and feed them pellets from paper cups. 

At the center of the square stood the main attraction - a twenty-something foot Christmas tree decorated to the max in bright gold ornaments. Intricate white designs were drawn across their glass surface in careful detail. At the top was an old-fashioned metal star, glittering in the late morning sun and sending light flickering down onto the small stage at the tree’s base. 

“Wow,” Sam breathed out, gazing upwards, “You gotta admit, that’s not too shabby.”

Dean shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It’s a tree, Sam, do you need me to leave you alone with it or something?”

Dean dodged the elbow aimed at his gut before he saw it, laughing as he looked back at the tree. He knocked their shoulders together.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

There was a sudden crackle over the speakers as a cheery voice was emitted over the courtyard. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you are enjoying your time at the most festive place on Earth!”

Some of the kids started to cheer and Dean watched in confusion as a herd of them started to swarm towards the stage. Glancing back at Sam, Dean followed, finding a spot near the corner where the crowd was thinner. Red and white strobe lights suddenly flared to life above them, circling from metal rafters and lighting up snowflake designs down below.

There was another crackle from the speaker, “May you please direct your attention to the stage and give a warm, peppermint welcome to EverGreen Bend’s Highschool Dance Club!”

Dean glanced at Sam, mouthing, _“Peppermint welcome?”_ as the crowd gave a rapturous cheer.

Music started from the speakers, jingle bells and violins laid over one another as a female voice launched into something unmistakably poppy.

**[“Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande](https://open.spotify.com/track/0lizgQ7Qw35od7CYaoMBZb?si=KvQe4-9VQHOEldqU1MLN6w) **

“Ariana Grande?” Dean asked incredulously. He glanced over at Sam’s bewildered expression, “Shut up.” 

On stage, a group of highschoolers skipped into view, dressed in red leggings and green jackets. They fell into a clumsy bit of choreography, made mostly of swinging arms and half-formed kicklines that still managed to leave the child audience starstruck.

"Think this is what's causing the fires?" Dean asked doubtfully. Beside him, Sam rolled his eyes. 

"I don't see how. There's nothing malicious about... _that,"_ Sam gestured. On stage, two of the dancers bumped into each other as they timed their turns wrong before shuffling quickly back into place.

Just as Dean opened his mouth, there was the shrill sound of metal grating against metal. Dean’s hands flew towards the gun in his pocket on instinct, giving the area a quick scan. Another metallic screech followed louder this time, finally catching the attention of the dancers and audience members as they looked wearily around them. 

It was Sam who spotted it first, pointing up towards the stage’s rafters.

“Look out!”

Dean spotted it a second later. One of the overhead lights was swinging precariously from its hinges before snapping off, tumbling towards the dancers below. A girl leaped out of the way just in time as it crashed in an explosion of metal and glass. There were screams and worried cries as the light suddenly burst into flames. 

“Everybody, over here! This way, c’mon,” Dean shouted, using his arms to direct the dancers off stage as the flames licked higher. One by one, the dancers rushed off, some crying and others still in shock as they were herded towards their families in the audience. Dean had to give the festival props for their security because it was only seconds later that someone came running over, dousing the flames with a fire extinguisher.

“Folks, we’d like to evacuate the area. Please, in an orderly fashion, walk to the nearest exit…” a voice called out. Dean locked eyes with Sam across the disorganized crowd, jerking his head towards one of the exits. 

When Sam caught up with him, he was slightly out of breath, “What the hell was that? Did you even see anything?”

“I have no idea,” Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What I do know is that I’m starving and this place is starting to give me the heebie-jeebies.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, “So... lunch?”

Dean nodded, “Lunch.”

. . .

The diner they stopped at had red leather booths and a waitress who winked in Dean’s direction when they first sat down. Like every other thing in this town, the diner was flounced to the max in Christmas decorations because apparently even ordering a burger had to be a festive occasion.

“Cheeseburger, side of fries,” he recited, barely giving the menu a glance. Their waitress, Betty, smiled wide, her red lipstick matching the Santa hat perched over her dark hair.

“Coming right up,” she said, giving Dean a glance over before turning to take Sam’s order. When she was done, she headed back towards the kitchens.

Dean heard the clacking of Sam’s keyboard stop. He turned away from his appraisal of the dancing surfer-shirt Santa figurine at the end of their table to meet his brother’s stare. Distantly in the diner, Elvis’s sultry voice crooned from a speaker. 

**[“Blue Christmas” by Elvis Presley](https://open.spotify.com/track/3QiAAp20rPC3dcAtKtMaqQ?si=qM7he3HxQZ-SKZBfruFZ7A) **

Dean raised his eyebrows, “What?” 

Sam just stared at him.

“Okay, now you’re just acting like Cas. _What?”_

Sam raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly back at his laptop screen and resuming his typing. 

“Nothing. It’s just, she was totally into you.”

Dean sighed, suddenly feeling tired. He rubbed at one of his eyes, “And?”

“...Have you talked to Cas yet?”

Dean winced, knowing he had set himself up for that one. For shits and giggles, he decided to act dumb and started playing with his paper napkin.

“What about?”

_“Dean.”_

Dean just continued to play with his napkin, ripping off a piece and rolling it into a ball on the table’s linoleum surface. It only made him feel marginally better when he heard Sam huff, annoyed.

“He’s my friend too, you know? I’m just saying…”

“Saying what, Sam?”

“I’m just _saying,” _Sam muscled on, “that maybe you could, I don’t know, give him a call and see if he wants to see us?”__

____

Dean’s mind flickered back to the second phone call he had made just days ago. He had dialed it after being three beers deep with a conversation with Charlie. He’d been on just the right side of buzzed, the alcohol feeling warm and pleasant in his stomach and nothing like the punishing hard stuff he was used to. 

____

He and Charlie had been doing a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon when they’d somehow gotten onto the topic of Cas. Cas, who was an angel of the Lord who had rescued Dean from Hell yet never managed to wear his tie right, and who had kept stopping for pigeons that time Dean had tried to teach him to drive. 

____

Dean remembered the ribbing he got from Charlie as she brimmed with excitement over meeting him, her enthusiasm making Dean feel weirdly embarrassed. Nerves had jumbled in his chest, but in a good way; a way that made him reach for the phone to call Cas again and give it one more shot, his pride be damned.

____

Cas had never picked up.

____

Dean flicked the paper ball he made at Sam’s head, watching it fly over his shoulder and land behind him. Sam looked scandalized, which was enough to get a smile out of Dean.

____

“It’d be nice to work on this case with someone who isn’t an actual _child,”_ Sam snapped. He pushed the laptop over, “Here, look at this.”

____

“Hey!” Dean frowned. He leaned forward anyway, trying to make sense of the symbols on the computer’s screen, “What is all this?”

____

“You remember the ornaments on the main tree?”

____

Dean wracked his memory, “Yeah, you mean the gold ones with the uh, weird loopy stuff drawn on them?”

____

Sam tilted his head, “The ‘weird loopy stuff’ were _faerie symbols.”_

____

Dean slowly leaned back, “Faerie stuff? Again? I thought we just dealt with that crap with Gilda a few weeks ago.”

____

“I know, and that’s why I remembered seeing these symbols from that case. These symbols here?” He pointed at a looping pattern, one that matched what Dean had seen on the ornaments, “That’s a binding charm.”

____

Dean raised his eyebrows, “And that means?”

____

Sam just shrugged, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, but at least it’s a lead.”

____

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, shifting the screen to get a better look at it, “We just have to track down who made the ornaments then.” He glanced back at Sam, “You got any ideas?”

____

“Here’s your food, gents.”

____

Sam smoothly closed the laptop, sliding it across the table to make room for the plates of steaming food Betty placed before them. The cheeseburger made Dean’s mouth water.

____

“Oh, have you both been to the Christmas Festival already?” she asked. She nodded down at the green wristband peeking out of Sam’s sleeve and he gave her a pleasant smile.

____

“Yeah, actually, it was our first time.”

____

“Are you from out of town?”

____

“We’re here for the Mayfield Gazette, doing a story on the festival for our readers.”

____

Betty cooed, placing a hand over her chest.

____

“Oh, how lovely! You’re journalists then,” she guessed. Deciding to let Sam take the reins on this one, Dean leaned over to take a sip of his coffee.

____

“You wouldn’t happen to know the owners of the Christmas Festival, would you?” Sam asked, “We’d love to do an interview with them to really capture the voice of the festival’s spirit.”

____

Dean sputtered into his drink and quickly covered it with a cough, waving off Betty’s concern and Sam’s murderous look.

____

Betty pursed her lips, tapping a red-manicured nail against her chin. 

____

“You’d be looking for Mary and Seth Goldsmith. This close to Christmas, I’d imagine you’d find them running the festival. The event is their passion project and they’re always so meticulous about the details. It’s why we look forward to it every year,” she said brightly.

____

“Thanks, uh, Betty, you’ve been a huge help,” Sam thanked her, and she grinned back before another customer caught her eye and she rushed over.

____

Sam turned back to meet Dean’s deadpan stare.

____

“We have to go back, don’t we?”

____

“Afraid so.”

____

“Well, if I get murdered by a rogue reindeer or something later,” Dean sighed, picking up his burger, “I’m blaming you.”

. . .

If there was one upside to the damn wristbands, it was that they didn’t have to re-pay to get back inside the festival. Dean made sure to keep his head on a swivel this time for rogue children, barely stepping out of the way as a little girl barreled past him with a giant stuffed penguin clutched to her chest. 

____

A few questions with the employees led them to the Goldsmiths who were apparently looking after the reindeer stables. When they arrived, it was to see the older couple shoveling fresh hay as a few of reindeer mulled around, seeking shelter from the cold outside. After introducing themselves as journalists, the couple had been more than enthusiastic to talk.

____

“Oh, isn’t that lovely? Seth, look at these boys, so handsome! And they want to run a story about _our_ festival!” Mary gushed. She wiped an erratic grey hair out of her eyes, her cheeks flushed from the manual labor.

____

“You run a wonderful festival, Mrs. Goldsmith, and I’m sure our readers will love to hear about it,” Sam assured her. “I couldn’t help but notice how much thought you put into the decorations here. Those gold ornaments on the main tree, where did you get them?”

____

Dean winced at Sam’s lack of subtlety. But if the smell of reindeer manure wasn’t motivating enough, they were losing daylight fast. Tomorrow the Christmas crowds would be at their highest and they didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

____

“Did you like them? Aren’t they just gorgeous? Seth! Seth, honey, get over here, the boys are complimenting your designs!” Mary held out an arm, gesturing towards her husband. Seth wandered closer, a red flannel covering a potbelly chest and a red trucker hat hiding hints of white hair.

____

“So you designed them yourself?” Dean asked. Seth looked up, his gaze steady and his body language calm and relaxed.

____

“Oh no, I’m no artist,” he laughed, glancing down.

____

“He’s got an artist’s eye though!” Mary quipped.

____

“I didn’t make any of the ornaments myself,” Seth clarified, his cheeks slightly red, “Mary and I wanted to do something unique this year with the festival’s theme. After doing this for twenty years, sometimes you wanna switch things up. We decided on a vintage look, you know, lots of silvers and golds. Classic stuff,” he nodded.

____

“We scoured almost every thrift shop in the entirety of western Kansas, didn’t we?” Mary laughed. Dean pounced on the piece of information.

____

“So you bought the ornaments from a thrift store? Do you remember which one?” he asked.

____

Mary frowned.

____

“Oh gosh...I’m sorry, I don’t remember. I swear we went to fifty of those things.”

____

“That’s okay, Mrs. Goldsmith,” Sam reassured her. “We appreciate your time. If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch,” he nodded. 

____

“Merry Christmas, boys,” Mary cooed as both Sam and Dean turned to leave. As the doors shut behind them, Dean took a huge gulp of fresh air.

____

“Jesus, I thought I was gonna keel over in there,” he gasped. He glared back at the reindeer stables as they walked away.

____

“So, what now?” he asked, keeping his voice low with everyone around them, “I’m finding it hard to believe Mr. and Mrs. Claus in there are the ones responsible for trying to murder people at their own festival.”

____

Sam frowned down at his pad of notes. “I think you’re right. I mean, they’ve been running this place for twenty years, why start now?” He blew out a puff of air. “I dunno dude, I’m stuck.”

____

“Yeah…” Dean muttered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He braced himself for the inevitable question.

____

“...Do you think maybe we should call Cas?”

____

“Sam!” Dean snapped, feeling something between both panic and exasperation.

____

“What, Dean? Am I not even allowed to say his name?” Sam asked. Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning around, his heart starting to pound in his chest. Overhead, more damn Christmas music was blaring out of the festival’s speakers and it was making Dean want to punch something.

____

**[“Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” by Mariah Carey](https://open.spotify.com/track/3PIDciSFdrQxSQSihim3hN?si=kgNsMJ_CQNyiAtoW1qty6Q) **

____

“Seriously, what is going on with you two? Did you get in a fight or something?” 

____

Dean took a deep breath, having trouble meeting Sam's eyes.

____

He raised his eyebrows, “Nothing happened.” 

____

Sam paused before letting out a long sigh.

____

“Look, Dean, we’re here to do a job, yeah? Right now, we’re stuck. But we might have someone who can _help us._ What do you expect me to do?”

____

Dean gnawed his lip, hating the logic behind Sam’s words. He looked around them, watching as a mother wiped the crumbs off her daughter’s chin. By the reindeer stables, a little boy squealed as one of the reindeer ate a carrot from his palm, his older sister showing him the proper way to hold his fingers and smiling at his wide-eyed excitement.

____

These were families celebrating Christmas Eve, blissfully unaware that they were putting themselves in danger by being here. Dean sighed.

____

“Okay,” he relented, “I’ll give him another call,” he promised. Dean ignored how Sam’s shoulders slumped in relief. He scribbled something else on his notepad then flipped through some of its pages. 

____

“Look, I want to run by the library and see if there’s any last-minute research I can do. Since it’s almost Christmas, I'll even give you a rain-check on this one. How about you do a supplies-check back at the motel and give Cas a call?”

____

He stuffed the notepad in one of his pockets, giving Dean a pointed look.

____

“You good?”

____

Dean scoffed, cuffing him on the shoulder and walking back towards the parking lot. 

____

“I’m good, jerk. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.”

. . .

Dean paced up and down the small motel room, his phone gripped in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey in the other. The supplies-check had gone off without a hitch. He'd even gone back and done it a second time, but at the end of the day, there were only so many times a person could check and recheck the same sets of magazines for ammo. After pouring himself a bit of liquid courage, Dean had been left standing in the motel room for the better half of an hour, feeling more and more ridiculous as the minutes ticked by.

____

On a whim, he had even pulled out the portable radio from Baby’s trunk, switching it on to one of the local stations and letting the years-weathered lyrics fill the small room.

____

**[“Please Come Home For Christmas” by Jon Bon Jovi](https://open.spotify.com/track/5tbSC9aFC7fzlI3BMEs2Wr?si=hnijGRLhTZuGro66mLS36g) **

____

He took a sip of the whiskey, focusing on the familiar burn down his throat and into his chest. He walked up to look out the window, catching the last of the sun’s rays turn the sky a brilliant pink then fade into a softer purple. Across the parking lot, Dean watched as the motel’s Christmas lights flickered quietly to life, casting green, red, and orange shadows on the black metal of Baby’s hood.

____

Taking another pull from his drink, Dean opened his phone. Thumbing through his contacts, he clicked on the name and braced himself as he lifted it to his ear. 

____

The dial rang.

____

And rang.

____

And rang.

____

Dean swallowed.

____

There was an electronic beep as he was sent to voicemail.

____

Dean clenched his jaw, tossing his phone onto the end of the bed and draining the rest of his glass, tightening his eyes against the sting and focusing on the bitter burn. He let out a deep breath, sinking down next to the phone as he glared at its black screen. 

____

The phone blared to life, vibrating against the covers. Dean fumbled with his glass, tossing it somewhere near his feet, as he scrambled for the answer button, clicking it on and lifting it to his ear.

____

“Cas?” he gasped out. There was a beat of silence.

____

“Uh...no, Sam.” 

____

Sam. Dean clenched his eyes, running a tired hand across his face. 

____

“So I, uh, take it you couldn’t get a hold of Cas?”

____

Dean glanced up at the ceiling, thanking whoever was up there that he at least didn’t have to have this conversation face to face.

____

“No, he didn’t pick up.”

____

There was fuzzy silence from the receiver before Sam spoke again, his voice nauseatingly sincere, “...Listen, I’m sorry Dean, I know I was pushing you earlier but-”

____

Dean cut him off, “So what’d you find at the library?”

____

“What?” Sam asked, sounding confused, “Oh. _Oh!_ You’ll never believe it, but I think I know what we’re dealing with here.”

____

Dean stood up, stretching as he walked to their duffle bags on the table. “Yeah? Update me, Ground Control.”

____

“I did some digging into faerie lore and apparently they have a distant cousin called the _imp.”_

____

Dean paused, “Excuse me?”

____

“There are tons of myths about them, but the common threads I found were… hang on.” Dean heard the shuffling of paper, using the time to pull out their silver bullets and start loading some guns, the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear.

____

“Found it! Okay, from what I’ve read, these things are crazy powerful. There’s even some lore saying they can bring things back to life, shapeshift, stuff like that.”

____

Dean let out an impressed whistle.

____

Sam continued, “For all that power though they aren’t necessarily evil. Most of what I read just describes them as being impulsive and prankish. All those random fires at the festival, by the way? Turns out that’s kind of their thing, like their calling card or something.”

____

“So what’s something that powerful doing at a Christmas festival anyway?” Dean asked.

____

“The things thrive off of human energy. What better place to set up shop than a place where everyone’s happy, all the time?”

____

Dean snorted, “I guess.”

____

“But here’s the weird part. It says here that they can only cross into the human realm if they’re summoned and then bound to some sort of object.”

____

Dean shoved the firearms and silver knives into a bag, adding a bottle of kerosene and lighter on impulse as he ran the lore through his head.

____

“So, you think...maybe, some dude out there summoned the thing and bound it to one of those Christmas ornaments we saw earlier, only to realize his Gizmo had turned into a gremlin?”

____

“He then decides to get rid of the thing,” Sam finished, “Fast forward to The Goldsmiths buying the ornament in a thrift shop and unknowingly dropping a curse on their own town.”

____

Dean grabbed the bags, slinging them over his shoulder and stepping out into the parking lot, headed towards the Impala.

____

“So what I hear is we go at this thing with every silver weapon we got and try to smash whatever ornament it's bound to.”

____

“Sounds good to me,” Sam’s voice grew distant and muffled before turning back, “Listen, they’re closing early for Christmas Eve so I’ll be out on the front steps. See you in five?”

____

Dean threw the duffle bags in the trunk, slamming Baby’s hood.

____

“Already on my way.”

. . .

Just like he said, Dean found Sam standing outside the steps of Evergreen Bend’s library. His hands were tucked under the sleeves of his shirt, looking miserable as his breath came out in white puffs against the dark. Dean had cranked up the heat on his way over and Sam let out a sigh of relief when he hopped in.

____

Since it was still too early to check out the festival grounds after-hours, Dean pulled them up to a McDonald's drive-thru with its lights on to grab them a quick and greasy dinner. 

____

They ate parked in the shadows of the festival’s parking lot, watching as the overhead lights snuffed out one by one. The last of the employees trickled out afterward, shouting out to each other from across the lot before getting in their cars and peeling away. Sam and Dean waited for another few minutes before deciding the coast was clear.

____

Jumping the fence was laughably easy. Once inside, they found themselves by the main entrance where Dean slugged off his duffle bag and divided the guns and knives between them. Next, he pulled out the bottle of kerosene, weighing it in his hand before catching the look on his brother’s face.

____

“What?”

____

“Is that, is that _kerosene?”_ Sam asked incredulously. 

____

Dean shoved it under the back of his shirt. 

____

“No...maybe.”

____

Sam blinked rapidly for a few seconds before shaking his head, “Jesus, you can’t just - just _light the whole Christmas tree on fire!”_ he exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to be the one to go through every damn ornament hoping that _maybe_ you break the right one? They all look the damn same!”

____

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

“Dean, it’s _arson.”_

____

“Dude, have you _seen_ what we do?”

____

Sam just groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he leveled Dean with a look, holding up a finger.

____

“That’s absolutely the last case scenario.”

____

“You’re not the boss of me,” Dean threw back.

____

“Dean.”

____

Dean sighed, checking the magazine on his gun before clicking it back into place.

____

“Fine, _Scrooge.”_

____

“That doesn’t even-” Sam leaned his head back, “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I head left, you head right?”

____

“And we see who the gremlin latches onto first,” Dean confirmed. He gave Sam a two-finger salute before turning around. 

____

“See you on the other side, Sergeant Powell!”

____

“No way, I’m John McClane!” Sam shouted back. Dean snickered, pulling out his pistol and feeling the familiar weight of it in his hands as he headed towards the tree-lined path.

____

“In his dreams,” he muttered. 

____

Dean slowed down, trying to keep his footsteps quiet and his ears alert for any noise. The air was crisp against his skin and he felt a tremor shake through him as he tightened his grip on the weapon. He had never liked to wear gloves on a hunt. They had always made his hands feel clumsy with the added padding. In their line of work where a split second could mean the difference between life or death, Dean had always taken the discomfort for the extra dexterity. 

____

Dean could see his breath escape from his lips with each exhale, funneling into a cone of white in front of him. He took another careful step forward. Towards his left, a tarp flapped and Dean stilled, muscles tight and bound.

____

There was a flash of white in the corner of his eye and Dean immediately had his gun trained on it, relaxing as he saw what it was. He stared dubiously at the light-up snowman as its strobe light flickered on and off behind its painted smiling face.

____

“Really?” he called out. There was silence, not that he necessarily expected an answer. Beside it, another snowman flickered to life, blinking in time with the first. Dean flinched when one of the penguin figurines clicked on next, red lights flashing as it spun itself in circles. Its laugh track played on an ominous loop into the night.

____

“Aw, c’mon, that’s just creepy,” Dean muttered. There was a flash of movement up ahead and Dean glanced over, eyes frantically scanning the dark shadows for a glimpse of -

____

_There._ He grimaced as he caught sight of the imp as it scuttled into the line of trees, its movements jerky and quick like a cockroach. Its spindly body was made up of long, thin limbs and an angular torso with large, pointed ears attached to a wide-shaped head. It made wheezing gasps that Dean could barely make out. It sounded almost like _laughter._

____

Dean quickened his pace to follow it down the path, catching glimpses of webbed feet and grey, sickly skin as it ducked behind the branches too quickly for Dean to get a clean shot. He sent out a quiet prayer that Sam was headed towards the center square as they planned so they could flush this thing out and hopefully weaken the thing.

____

He lost sight of it again, making him pick up the pace as he left the path and found himself in another clearing. He whipped his head back and forth, his breath coming out in short pants that clouded his vision as he searched for the imp.

____

There was the same wheezing laughter as before, and Dean’s gaze shot up to see the thing hanging by its toes from a string of lights overhead. It raised its spindly hand in a wave before sticking out a forked tongue, collapsing back into laughter at Dean’s offended expression.

____

“Oh that’s it, you’re going down, you son of a bitch,” he snapped, raising his gun and firing off three rounds in quick succession. The imp reared back and hissed, the shots all missing. It scurried off along the Christmas lights, Dean running underneath it and trying to find a clearer shot. 

____

He skidded to a stop as the imp suddenly launched itself through the window of one of the buildings. Dean was hot on its trail, glancing down at the two wooden doors in front of him. He kicked them open with the heel of his boot and burst in, gun raised.

____

“Yippee-ki-yay, motherf-” 

____

Dean froze. Down the barrel of his gun, a dozen set of wide eyes stared back at him, the smell of manure and wet hay filling Dean’s nose. Up in the rafters, the imp grinned down at him with sharp yellow teeth. Anxiously, one of the reindeer let out a sad neigh.

____

Dean blinked, lowering his arms.

____

**[“Run Rudolph Run” by Chuck Berry](https://open.spotify.com/track/2pnPe4pJtq7689i5ydzvJJ?si=eDz-2OGFRhGkn5TInwl7uQ) **

____

Overhead, the festival’s speakers screeched to life with sharp feedback. Dean slapped his hands over his ears as the beginning riffs of an electric guitar echoed throughout the stable, startling the reindeer into a hasty retreat. 

____

Dean’s eyes widened.

____

“Oh, fuck.”

____

Dean turned quick on his heel, flailing as the momentum sent him tumbling to the ground. Behind him, the sound of hammering hooves followed as the animals clamored for the exit. 

____

Dean’s hands scrambled in the dirt as he pushed himself back up, shooting off in a desperate sprint with his heart hammering in his chest.

____

“Sammy!” he screamed. He shot across the grounds, the sound of heavy hooves close behind him. Dean spared a glance over his shoulder, eyes widening at the herd of reindeer galloping behind him. He whipped his head back, the gun still gripped tightly in his hand and so utterly useless. He screamed again, “Sammy!”

____

“Dean?!” 

____

Up ahead, Sam stood in the archway of one of the paths, his gun hanging loose at his side. He stared past Dean, his mouth gaping open.

____

“It’s in the stables! It’s in the stables!” Dean shouted as he shot past, his voice wheezing. His lungs were burning, his calves hurt like shit, and he was now regretting all those times he had crapped on Sam’s morning jogs. 

____

Dean whipped around a corner, his arms wheeling as his leg almost swept out from under him. He righted himself quickly, arms pumping as he scanned frantically around him. 

____

His gaze fell on a line of plastic life-size nutcrackers. Dean threw himself towards them, scrambling to lean his back against one of them. He gasped for air, his heart pounding. He swallowed thickly, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes as he listened to the sound of clamoring hooves and frenzied whinnies rush past. 

____

_Where are you, Cas?_ He thought desperately. He listened as the stampede faded towards the other side of the festival grounds. _Buddy, we need help. I'm far out of my depth here._

____

There was the rasping sound of wheezing laughter again. Dean cracked open his eyes to see the imp hanging from the branch of a tree. When it saw Dean looking at him, the imp raised a hand and snapped.

____

**[“All I Want For Christmas Is You” by Mariah Carey](https://open.spotify.com/track/0bYg9bo50gSsH3LtXe2SQn?si=CBwCTomRS66bPeJ6vcvQ0w) **

____

Like a radio dial being changed, the music from the festival’s speakers switched. The tinkling chimes of a music box echoed into the night.

____

“Dude, you gotta listen to something other than Mariah Carey,” Dean panted.

____

The imp hissed, its ears curling against its head before disappearing with an audible pop. Dean cursed out loud for losing the imp, _again,_ when he suddenly felt the nutcracker behind him shudder. Reeling away, he stepped backward, watching in fascination and growing horror at the plastic figurines.

____

The nutcracker’s arm suddenly wrenched itself forward, the second arm following suit. Next came the legs, each joint creaking as if being awakened from a deep slumber. Around it, other nutcrackers were doing the same, dozens of the things being sparked to life by the imp's magic. Their painted, unseeing eyes all locked onto Dean. 

____

“Oh, that is just not right,” he groaned. It seemed the imp had gotten creative too and had manifested the mannequins with actual swords - because that was just the kind of day Dean was having. 

____

As Mariah Carey jumped into her first chorus, Dean grabbed a nearby candy cane, gripping the metal decoration with both hands. He raised it to block the first blow from the nutcracker with clenched teeth. Using his weight, he threw the mannequin forward, sending it tumbling backward only to be replaced with two more. 

____

Dean slammed the candy cane at another’s face, denting the plastic and landing a solid kick into another. Knowing he was outnumbered, Dean spun around and started to run, knocking over a gift display behind him. 

____

As he swung back around the corner, he nearly ran into Sam’s hulking frame. 

____

“Dean! I couldn’t find it, I’ve been looking-”

____

“No time,” Dean panted, grabbing Sam’s jacket and yanking him, “Nutcracker army on my ass.”

____

Sam gaped at him, “A _what?”_

____

Sam whipped his head around to look behind them. 

____

“Oh _shit-”_

____

Dean couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that strangled out of him. Of all things he'd expected to face tonight, the sale's items from _Walmart_ had not been one of them.

____

“So what’s the plan?” Sam huffed, sprinting next to him. While Sam might have the lung capacity to manage conversation, Dean had long shot past his cardio-quota for the day and was starting to resemble a gasping fish.

____

“Tree…Ornament... _Now!”_ he gasped out between breaths.

____

Sam nodded frantically, “Got it.”

____

Dean led them towards the tree-lined path, hoping his directions were right and they were headed towards the center of the grounds. Something crashed against Dean’s side and shattered, followed by another at his shoulder, then his knee, till Dean was being pelted on all sides.

____

“The damn things throwing ornaments at us!” he shouted. He lifted his arms and ducked down, trying to make himself a smaller target. When they finally burst out on the other end, it was to see the main Christmas tree. 

____

Dean’s muscles were officially on fire and his lungs were _screaming_ at him. When he wiped the sweat from his brow, his hand came away bloody.

____

Just as Sam and Dean started to regain their breath, a low growl rumbled from behind them. Grimacing, they both slowly turned around. Dean gaped at the mass of white fur and bulking muscle marching towards them with slow, thundering steps.

____

“Did it turn itself into a _fucking yeti?”_

____

The sound of thunking plastic signaled that the nutcrackers had reached the courtyard, spilling in from the pathway. Dean glanced between them and the imp, grimacing. 

____

They’d been cornered.

____

Dean spat out a mouthful of blood and dirt, panting as he drew his gun out and seeing beside him that Sam had done the same. Dean raised the weapon and aimed.

____

“Take this, jerkweed,” he growled.

____

They both emptied their rounds into the creature, each shot sending it stumbling back. By the time they were firing blanks, the yeti was already righting itself back up. It stretched to its fullest height, sneering at them with a growl. Dean unsheathed his silver knife, gripping it as he stared the creature down.

____

_C'mon Cas,_ he thought desperately.

____

The yeti reared upwards, bringing its hands up into fists and getting ready to bring them down when a sudden blast wave hit them from behind. Dean watched as the yeti stumbled backward, cowering away in fear. Feeling something like hope blossom in his chest, Dean grinned.

____

Cas had always loved a dramatic entrance.

____

Dean turned around to see the angel at the epicenter of the melted ruins of the nutcracker army. His eyes were still glowing and remnants of his grace curled in smoking wisps from his fingertips. The air around them crackled as if they were in the center of a lightning storm, making Dean’s hair stand on end and a shiver travel down his spine.

____

Cas raised his hand, sending another flash of light towards the yeti. It grew in intensity until Dean was forced to look away, listening to the strangled growls of the imp before it finally faded away into silence. 

____

When Dean lowered his arm, the yeti was gone. Whirling back, he turned to gape at Cas.

____

Cas smiled, “Hello, Dean.”

____

He let out a strangled laugh, letting his hand with the knife fall in relief to his side. “We could have used your help a lot sooner there, buddy.”

____

Cas ducked his head, stepping gingerly over the melted remains of the nutcrackers as he walked closer.

____

“I came as soon as I heard your prayers,” he said apologetically.

____

“My prayers-?” Dean asked. He shook his head, staring at Cas and feeling still slightly dazed, “Dude, what about the phone calls? I called you like three times!” 

____

Cas turned to squint at him, tilting his head to the side in a way that Dean knew meant the guy was genuinely baffled.

____

“Your phone calls?”

____

Dean stared at him, “Do you not check your phone?”

____

Cas frowned, his hands drifting towards his pockets before pulling out the burner phone Dean had given him a few weeks after their last case. Cas poked at some of the buttons, frowning further before sheepishly sliding it back into his coat.

____

“I may have forgotten to recharge it,” he admitted, which was a sentence that shot Dean through five different emotions he couldn’t begin to unravel. All that time he had spent aching over those missed calls, the issue really boiled down to the fact that...Cas had just forgotten to plug the damn thing in. 

____

He wanted to smack himself up the head.

____

Dean deflated, feeling the toll of the case start to hit him. He could berate the guy for not remembering to charge his phone, but the truth was he was tired. It was Christmas Eve, Cas was here, and he and Sam were safe. He figured, for now, that was enough.

____

“So where’d you send the imp anyway?” he asked.

____

Cas glanced back at where the yeti had been. “My grace only weakened it, much as the silver bullets you two shot it with did. The imp will need a while to recover, but it will return.”

____

Sam stepped forward, “I was actually hoping you could help us with that,” he said sheepishly. He pointed at the tree behind them, “Can you tell if any of those ornaments are the object he’s bound to?” 

____

Cas took a curious step towards the Christmas tree, his gaze lingering at one of the ornaments at eye level. He reached out, plucking an ordinary gold one from the bunch and handing it back to Sam.

____

“That is the one you’re looking for.”

____

Sam gazed down at it in bewilderment, “Uh… Wow, okay, just like that? Thanks, Cas,” he laughed nervously. “So now we just...break it?”

____

“I believe you can do that by throwing it on the floor,” Cas offered, and Dean couldn’t bite back his grin.

____

“You heard the man,” he nodded. Looking between them, Sam shrugged then dropped it on the ground. It shattered into the pieces. He then dug his heel into the remains, snuffing it out for good measure.

____

“So...that’s it?” he asked dubiously.

____

“The binding spell was broken and the imp has been returned to Avalon,” Cas confirmed. Dean clapped his hands.

____

“That’s good enough for me. So now we all we have to do is just...track down some rogue reindeer and clean up this mess,” he sighed, turning to look at the carnage behind them.

____

“Allow me.” 

____

Cas smiled as he snapped his fingers, the plastic remains disappearing around them. Dean let out a cackle of surprised laughter.

____

“Well would you look at that, it’s a Christmas miracle,” he grinned. “Now I don’t know about you guys but I could go for a shower to get all this ornament crap off of me.”

____

“Of course,” Cas nodded, “In that case, I’ll be going.” He stepped backward but faltered when Sam started to wave and flap his hands.

____

“Woah, woah, Cas, you just got here,” he said. Sam glanced back at Dean as he gestured helplessly with his hands, “Plus, you know, it’s Christmas Eve.” 

____

Cas nodded, “Yes, and I believe the tradition usually involves spending time with family.”

____

“You _are_ our family, Cas,” Dean pointed out. He raised his chin, meeting Cas’s eyes and reeling at the open surprise and affection he saw there. The angel was silent for a minute as he fumbled with the sleeve of his coat.

____

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas smiled.

____

Dean reached over to slap a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

____

“Have you ever celebrated Christmas before?” he asked.

____

“It’s more of a human tradition,” Cas admitted, sounding slightly embarrassed. Dean slung his arm around the angel’s shoulders, leading the three of them towards the exit.

____

“In that case, we gotta do the whole bells and whistles. Hey Sammy, you think we could grab some eggnog on the way back?”

____

“I saw a gas station just down the street. It wouldn't hurt to check,” Sam shrugged.

____

“There we go! Eggnog, a plastic Christmas tree, hell, we can even see what movies are playing. How does that sound?”

____

When Dean turned his head, it was to see Cas already gazing back at him with a soft smile.

____

“I would like that very much.”

. . .

**[“White Christmas” by Bing Crosby](https://open.spotify.com/track/6kGF1dhIK1uGhcrWeuLLMv?si=EUVRlD1HQUuq10Ap6pHXag) **

An hour later, the three of them are nestled back in the motel room, the small heater cranking away in the corner and cups of eggnog cradled in their hands. The portable radio was turned down low to one of the local stations. 

Sure enough, the gas station Sam had spotted was still open when they drove back. Dean had managed to snag them a carton of eggnog and a bottle of whiskey, because if this was Cas’s first Christmas then he wanted to do it right.

____

It had been Sam’s idea to turn on the Christmas tree, a task which had resulted in them spending about ten minutes looking for the thing’s switch. When they finally found it, the tree had flickered to life, washing the room in a warm glow that just might have made the whole hassle worth it.

____

Sam was leaned against the bed's headboard while Cas and Dean had taken the room’s two armchairs. Dean had trusted _A Christmas Story_ to be on, and sure enough, they were able to find it on the motel’s small cable box tv. They had made it just in time to see Flick get his tongue stuck on the flagpole. Cas’s scandalized expression at the scene had sent Dean cackling into his eggnog.

____

“I’m gonna grab more ice,” Dean threw out, giving the ice bucket a shake. Sam barely gave him a glance, eyes glued to the tv as he nodded.

____

“I’ll go with you,” Cas offered, and Dean had to tamp down hard on the way that made his stomach flip. He nodded, already heading for the door with Cas on his heels.

**["Thank God It's Christmas" by Queen](https://open.spotify.com/track/3AymrUApW5JKKaNrHQhcBG?si=IUwvaarsQquiX--uur21Hw) **

Outside, there was a noticeable nip to the air that made the tips of Dean’s fingers and nose burn as he felt the blood rush towards them. The ice chest was just a little ways from their room, illuminated by the rainbow lights strung on the motel’s roof. In a room nearby, someone was listening to Christmas music.

Dean filled the bucket from the ice chest, replaying Cas's words from earlier in his head. He took a deep breath and turned around, seeing the angel already gazing back at him expectantly.

____

“Cas, you know...you know we want you here, right?” He asked, cringing at the words. He wasn’t used to talking about this kind of stuff, not with Sam or anyone really. But with Cas it felt important, like he wanted to try. Hell, after everything Cas had done for them he figured he owed him that much.

____

Cas gave him a curious look, “Of course, Dean. You and Sam invited me.”

____

“I don’t mean just tonight." 

Cas flinched slightly back and Dean cursed himself as he scrambled to find the right words, “No, no, I didn’t mean - look. We definitely want you here tonight. Hell, Sammy was on my case this whole day hounding me to call you,” he laughed.

____

Castiel nodded, still looking solemn. “I’m sorry again, Dean. If I had gotten your call I would have been able to help you with the case sooner.”

____

“I’m not just talking about the case here, man,” Dean sighed, shaking his head, “Although don’t get me wrong, if you had been here earlier I probably wouldn’t have had my ass almost handed to me by a lawn ornament,” he laughed, trying to ease away the defeated expression on Cas's face.

____

He took a decisive step forward, catching Cas’s eyes as they ducked down because what he had to say was important and he needed Cas to hear him.

____

“So yeah, we could have used you on this case," Dean admitted, "Having a guy with an arc reactor at his fingertips isn’t exactly a bad call.” 

____

Cas just looked at him wearily, “You didn’t seem so sure the last time we worked together."

____

“You tried to interrogate a cat, dude, that’s not exactly hunting 101.” 

Cas looked away and Dean mentally kicked himself because insulting the guy was definitely _not_ what he was trying to do here. “Look, you just need a bit of practice, that’s all. I didn’t come out swinging either when I first started.”

____

Cas glared back at him, “And how should I get that practice, Dean?”

____

“With _us,”_ Dean said as if it were obvious. Across from him, Cas let out a deep sigh, his shoulders drooping under his trenchcoat. 

____

“I’m just not sure how useful I can be to you and Sam,” he finally admitted.

____

_“Useful?_ You’re not a tool, Cas. You’re family,” Dean said, staring at him in disbelief. He reached out, gripping Cas’s shoulder. “Family doesn’t give a damn how useful they are to each other. Family’s there for each other, through all of it - the bad, the good, the ugly, even the tedious crap in between.”

____

Cas studied Dean, eyes searching his face, “What are you trying to say?”

____

A strangled laugh bubbled in Dean’s throat because Cas was really going to make him spell it out for him, wasn’t he? 

____

“Today wasn’t the first time I tried to call you. I tried calling you weeks ago before we needed help on any stupid case or whatever,” Dean confessed, reeling at how much the admission felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, “I want you here, Cas. Case or no case, I just want you _here.”_

Dean swallowed, feeling his heart beat a loud staccato against his chest because he wasn’t always so goddamn _blunt._ He felt ripped open and exposed, having to trust that Cas wouldn't hurt him.

Cas reached up, wrapping a hand over where Dean was still gripping his shoulder tightly. He gave him a soft smile, tilting his head.

“Of course, Dean. I’d follow you wherever you’d ask me to go.”

Dean blinked, reeling as the words hit him. He knew what his life was like. It was dirty and rough - filled with blood, and sweat, and booze, and nightmares that left him frozen in the dark when he blinked awake. The people Dean touched usually ended up hurt or dead, and so he knew what he was asking from Cas was more than he had any right to. But, _god,_ if it wasn't the one thing he wanted. He let out a helpless laugh, “Can I just ask you to stay?”

______ _ _

Cas looked at Dean curiously in wonder, shaking his head slowly as if the answer was obvious. 

______ _ _

“Dean, in all my years of existence, by your side is the happiest I’ve known.”

______ _ _

And that - Jesus, that was more than Dean deserved. He breathed out, feeling like something inside of him had finally been put to ease. Whether it was the lingering buzz from the eggnog or the lights painting colors in Cas’s eyes, a spark of rebellious hope stirred in him. Maybe...just maybe, Dean could have this. And hell, it was Christmas Eve wasn’t it? If there was ever a time to chase after what he wanted, now was it.

______ _ _

And so he kissed Castiel.

The angel stiffened with the first brush of their lips, sending Dean’s brain immediately into a repetition of, _oh shit oh shit oh shit-_

But just as quickly, Cas melted into the kiss, melted into _Dean,_ and that silenced any other thought in Dean's head. 

______ _ _

As far as kisses went, this one was surprisingly innocent. Dean didn’t try to pull any fancy tricks and instead just focused on the gentle slide of their lips as they tentatively chased after one another. When Dean tasted the eggnog they'd been drinking it made him smile, breaking this kiss. As he leaned back, it was to the pleasant sight of Cas blinking rapidly in shock, staring at Dean as if he’d gone mad.

“Dean?” he asked.

Dean cleared his throat, reaching for Cas’s hand. He tugged it gently, relishing in the way Cas let himself be led. He knew they would have to talk about whatever _this_ was with them now. Cas deserved answers and for once Dean felt ready to give them. He and Cas would talk, he was sure of it, because now that he knew he could have this with him he was going to hold onto it with both hands clamped tight. 

With the weight of the night hanging over them though, he also felt that they could wait on that conversation. Just for one more day. 

Dean knew he could trust Cas to be patient with him.

“C’mon,” he said softly, giving Cas a reassuring smile, and god, he could actually feel himself _blushing,_ “We’re missing the best part of the movie.”

**[“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Frank Sinatra](https://open.spotify.com/track/2FPfeYlrbSBR8PwCU0zaqq?si=uhiyL6NVS_6V7EJvypI3SQ) **

______ _ _

When they walked back into the room, it was to the soft croons of Frank Sinatra coming from the radio. Sam glanced over at them, eyes sliding down to where their hands were still intertwined. Sam immediately looked away, but Dean caught him smiling into his eggnog anyway, probably thinking he was subtle.

______ _ _

“Dude, you guys almost missed the part where he opens the BB gun,” he laughed.

______ _ _

“Hey, no spoilers Sammy,” Dean ordered, placing the bucket of ice on the table. He grabbed the eggnog, giving Cas a quick wink as he topped off their glasses and offered his over, “It is the best part though."

Cas nodded seriously, taking a sip, “I’ll pretend to be surprised then.”

Dean laughed brightly, feeling strangely giddy and drunk from more than just the booze for once. “Alright Seinfeld, I get your point.”

______ _ _

They returned to their seats, Dean sitting closer to Cas this time. He shifted, knocking their knees together. When he glanced up to meet Cas's eyes, it was to give him a knowing smile that grew into a grin when he felt Cas deliberately press back. 

Settling back into his chair, Dean lifted his drink to his lips, eyes catching on the first of the snowflakes that had started to fall outside the motel's window.

. . .

Christmas morning arrived, along with the snow.

______ _ _

It was nothing his Baby hadn’t handled before and Dean was confident she’d hold steady on the drive back. They piled their bags into her trunk, ice crunching underfoot as they locked the motel room behind them. It was far before their official check-out time but they had wanted to get on the road early to make it back to Lebanon. The bunker's memory foam mattress and above-par water pressure had been calling to Dean for weeks. 

______ _ _

“So I was thinking chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, with lots of bacon. Cas, you ever had chocolate chip pancakes before?”

______ _ _

As the three of them piled into the Impala, Dean caught Cas’s expression in the rearview window, grinning at the serious look of contemplation the angel gave the question.

______ _ _

“No, I don’t think I have,” he answered. 

______ _ _

“Alright, Sam, find us a diner somewhere,” Dean ordered. He reversed his Baby out of the motel’s parking lot, giving a mental goodbye to the place before pulling them onto the main road. Beside him, Dean saw Sam pull out his phone with a quick side glance.

______ _ _

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” he observed.

______ _ _

“It’s Christmas, Sammy.”

______ _ _

Sam laughed, “Yeah, and I thought you said it wasn't really 'our thing'.”

______ _ _

Dean’s gaze flew towards the rearview mirror again. Cas caught his eye, giving him a small smile as Dean grinned back.

______ _ _

“I guess I changed my mind,” he said simply. Taking a hand off the wheel, he reached down and scrounged through the cassette box at Sam’s feet, ignoring his brother's whines to _look at the damn road, Dean._ He found what he was looking for, popping the green tape into the dash player. 

______ _ _

**[“Christmas All Over Again” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers](https://open.spotify.com/track/00pXPeNvEBEFNUTVBT62QI?si=rHpJjVz3RBqDZQc0tH1RXQ) **

______ _ _

Immediately, the sound of a snare drum roll filled the car along with a chorus of bells and guitar strings. Dean drummed his hands along the wheel, pulling them onto the open road as they left Evergreen Bend behind.

______ _ _

In a few hours, they’d be back at the bunker. Sam had called Kevin and Charlie earlier, putting them on speaker as he let them know they closed the case and would be back in time for Christmas. 

______ _ _

The two had been in the middle of making cookies when they picked up. A few minutes into the conversation, it was Kevin had also sheepishly admitted that he and Charlie had apparently crammed a Christmas tree through the bunker’s doors in their absence. Dean had just laughed, promising them they’d stop by the store on the way in and he’d cook them all up a proper Christmas dinner with turkey and pie, his own hands itching to use the bunker's full-scale kitchen. Charlie had pounced on the idea, telling them that they would have to open presents first because her gift to Dean may or may not have been cooking-related.

______ _ _

Dean glanced back at Sam, mind wandering to the gifts hidden under his bed back in the bunker, all wrapped up in newspaper and magazine pages because some habits were just hard to break. He'd picked out some new headphones for his brother since the ones Sam had apparently had stopped working in one ear and Dean could only handle so much of his horrid music taste anyway. There was also the cassette tape he had gotten for Cas. It was a collection of David Bowie’s biggest hits, mostly because the angel had gotten such a kick out of "Space Oddity" the first time he listened to it. God knew Cas still had a ways to go in his music education, but Dean was more than happy to help him out.

______ _ _

Smiling to himself, Dean revved Baby’s engine, feeling the purr of it in his hands as he drove them towards home.

______ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3
> 
> For those curious, the lore for the imp was created using information from these sites: [(1](https://mythology.wikia.org/wiki/Imp) [2](https://mythology.net/demons/imp/) [3)](https://monster.fandom.com/wiki/Imp)
> 
> I combined some of these ideas with bits of faerie lore already established in the Supernatural universe, adding my own twist to it here and there.


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